


Pitch

by FreaksofMe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: EriSol - Freeform, M/M, Quadrant Confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:37:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreaksofMe/pseuds/FreaksofMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suck at summaries. Just something I wanted to do. Get back to writing for Nano, Erica. Um there's really no point to this. This is actually pretty crap, gomen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitch

You paused and frowned, thinking you might of been crazy. And maybe you were. You could always bring out the beautiful little lie of yours that you'd used on more than one occasion. Maybe.

Not.

You wouldn't lower yourself anymore than you've probably already have. Besides, Eridan had the upperhand. He usually did. You were lower than him.

Much lower.

But you were also stubborn. You didn't admit defeat. Ever. Especially not when it came to your kismesis, of all trolls.

It was a game of chance, really. Who topped. Even if he was stronger. Much stronger.

You didn't like that much. But you were taller. That was something.

You hated it when he'd flip, giving you a small bit of pity, and go easy on you, let you win. You were  _so_ pitch for him.

Eridan treated you like a helpless grub. Like you couldn't take control on your own.

You could. Easily. And Eridan knew that just as much as you did. 

Yet, seemingly, he didn't care. It was like he was just  _daring_ you to assume the highly prized top position.

Competition. You both craved it. That's what fueled your black feelings that you held for each other. Without it you'd be something that you knew you'd hate.

But that'd lead yourself back to black. Scratch that. 

Maybe if you were red, you'd actually enjoy it.

No, Captor, don't think like that. You hate the shit. Hate him so fucking much. Not even a speck of pity.

But he feels pity towards you, right? It'd be rude to not return those feelings.

 _No,_ dammit. You  _hate_ him. Let him love you, but your hate for him will stay  _constant._

You think. What? No. You hate him. Purely. Nothing red. Nothing flushed. Nothing matesprit-like. None of that bullshit.

Your feelings are pitcher than his fucking heart.

Even if a small portion of it is red.

 _No,_ fuck! You hate him. That's the one thing that you'll be sure about. The day that you love him is the day that your lusus actually develops common sense and uses it correctly. Which will be never. 

Fucking face it. You love _and_ hate him.


End file.
